


Terminus

by Slybrarian



Series: Strange Aeon [8]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alien Rituals, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Dark, Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-25
Updated: 2010-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-06 17:11:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slybrarian/pseuds/Slybrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While searching for an Alpha Site location, Cam's team instead finds a society where no one is older than twenty-four. Things go about as well as you might expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terminus

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by Dossier

It had been two entire weeks since the last disaster, a new record for Atlantis. No alien monsters had been released into the city, no Ancient technology had tried to kill anyone, and four off-world missions had been conducted without any Wraith contact. There had been a small hitch in their continued efforts to find a place for the Athosians to settle on the mainland, namely the discovery of iguana-things that spat fiber-dissolving enzymes when frightened, but since the only injury had been to a few people's dignity Cam didn't think that counted as a bad day. With luck, the trend would continue and his team's mission to scout out a potential Alpha Site or Athosian settlement spot would go off without a hitch.

Cam and his team were with Elizabeth for the pre-mission briefing for their upcoming trip to M7G-667, although truth be told there wasn't all that much to be briefed on. Lieutenant Sharon Satterfield was his second in command and had majored in behavioral science at the Air Force Academy. Doctor Alison Porter was an electrical and computing engineer and the team's scientist. The final member was Sergeant Dusty Mehra, who made up for her lack in academic credentials with her ability to outshoot and outfight the rest of them.

"It seems like this planet might be just what we're looking for," Cam said to Elizabeth. "Oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, which is always nice, temperate climate around the gate, 0.91 Earth gravity, and a twenty-three hour day. The MALP showed that conditions match the ones shown in the database."

"It does seem like it has potential," Elizabeth said with a slight nod. "I notice the MALP detected some kind of electro-magnetic disturbance. Doctor Porter, do you know what that cause is?"

"Not really, no," Porter said. "It's some kind of strong distortion in the planet's magnetic field. We're almost positive that it's not natural. More than that, though, it's hard to say exactly what the cause is. It could be anything from a shield to some sort of generator to a weather control system."

"Cool," Cam said with a grin. "That could mean a technologically advanced society."

"Or it could be a Wraith hive," Satterfield put in.

Cam sighed. "What have I told you about being pessimistic, Lieutenant?"

"I think you said that I shouldn't be, and I'm not," Satterfield replied. "I'm just being realistic and speaking with the voice of experience. Energy fields are usually bad news."

"Uh huh. Sure." Cam looked back at Elizabeth. "We'll check it out first thing through the gate. If it turns out to be nothing, I plan to do an orbital scan of the planet and then conduct a standard survey of the area around the gate. With any luck the soil and plant samples will be positive and the animal life won't be too ornery."

"That sounds like a good plan to me," Elizabeth said. "Good luck."

An hour later, they were flying through the gate in a jumper. Cam had volunteered for the gene therapy once it was clear that McKay and the other initial test subjects weren't dropping dead. It was purely a practical matter, of course. His team needed at least one person able to fly the ship, and as the only genuinely qualified fighter pilot on the base - John's delusions of grandeur aside and admittedly amazing skills, he was a rotor pilot - it was obvious that Cam should have the gene in order to defend the city and train new pilots. The fact that the jumpers were almost as cool as F-302s didn't factor into the decision at all.

"Okay, which way, Porter?" Cam asked as the ship cleared the gate and rose to a cruising altitude of about five hundred feet.

"The MALP showed the magnetic disturbance was strongest in the east," Porter said. She carefully poked at the copilot's controls and brought up the HUD. At first it showed a topographical map of the surrounding area. Then it overlaid layers of yellow and orange across the map, with a spot of red showing at one edge. Oddly enough, the orange seemed to form a roughly circular area around the gate. "It should be in the direction of the red area. You need to turn eighteen degrees to port."

"Gotcha." Cam changed course and accelerated to sedate fifty miles per hour. "How far are we talking?"

"It's hard to say. The edge of the field isn't more than a mile away, but it's hard to say where the origin is." Porter tapped a few more controls, this time with more confidence, then frowned and pointed at the red spot. "This strong area here might be the source, but it might just be a result of metal deposits or something else that would cause magnetic anomalies. Our best bet might to map the field out from a higher altitude."

"Will ten thousand feet do it?" Cam asked, angling the jumper upward.

Porter shrugged. "It seems as good as place as any to start."

They were at five thousand feet and climbing fast when a slight shiver ran through the jumper. Cam frowned and checked his instruments, trying to see if there was something wrong. Nothing immediately stood out, but a few moments later there was another, stronger shiver.

"What was that?" Mehra asked. "Turbulence?"

"It didn't feel like it," Cam said. In his admittedly limited experience, the jumpers were incredibly smooth rides thanks to their inertia-control and anti-gravity technologies. The atmospheric conditions weren't nearly stormy enough to explain it. "It might be that field. I'm gonna turn us around."

He pulled them into a tight turn, but it was too late: at the peak of the curve the engines simply died and a dozen warning glyphs appear all over the HUD. For a few horrible seconds they went completely out of control and corkscrewed through the air. Finally the auxiliary power cut in, but even that barely lasted long enough for Cam to get them leveled out.

"What the hell is going on?" he yelled as he struggled to maintain control of the ship.

"I don't know!" Porter shouted back. "It's as if all the power just died. The emergency systems aren't kicking in like they should, either. I can't figure out why!"

"Well, shit," Cam muttered. The HUD was still active, at least partially; the main sensors were down, but the altimeter was still helpfully showing their rapid descent. He'd always thought that the 302s had less than ideal glide characteristics, but the jumpers were nothing more than flying metal tubes without so much as an airfoil to be seen and it really showed just then. There was an emergency descent system built right into the anti-grav that was meant gently lower them down, but the jumper seemed to be dropping them much faster than it was supposed to and the system wasn't doing jack shit to slow their forward motion.

"Might be a good idea to hold on," Cam told his team as the ground grew near and he could see trees rushing past below them. He tried to aim for what looked like an opening in the forest, a clearing maybe, but knowing his luck it would be a fucking lake. Even it if was open ground, it wasn't going to be fun when they hit. He had been here before, skipping like a stone across the flat ice of Antarctica and bouncing twice before than last hit and the long skid that followed, and had the surgical scars to show it. He gave up on fighting for non-existent control and hit the emergency engine retraction control, not wanting them to be ripped off and possibly explode in the process.

An instant before they hit, a series of thick belts sprang out from the chair and wrapped around Cam like a full five-points crash restraint. The startled yelps from the rest of the team were drowned out by the sound of the jumper hitting dirt. It was like riding a rocket: the entire ship was vibrating to the point Cam was afraid it'd shake right apart while deafening roar filled the cabin. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds before they came to a stop but it felt like an eternity. When they finally stopped moving, it was impossible to see out of the windshield for all the dirt piled on top of it. Only small emergency lights that Cam had never spotted before illuminated the cabin; they were dim and barely gave enough light to let Cam see the others as vague, shadowy shapes.

Cam sat there quietly shaking in his seat for a minute. He was _not_ going to have a fucking flashback, no matter how reasonable it was under the circumstances, because he was in one piece, any landing you walked away from was a good one, and he had more important things to do at the moment. He silently repeated that to himself several times before finally asking aloud, "Everyone all right?"

"Yes, sir," Mehra answered immediately. If she was shaken, she wasn't showing it.

"I'm fine," Porter said hesitantly.

There was a long pause before Satterfield, her voice wavering with the kind of suppressed half-hysterical giggles that Cam had heard from a dozen other people after a near miss, said, "I think this proves my point about realism, sir."

Cam chuckled despite himself. "Maybe. Maybe not." He reached for the control board and tapped at some of the keys and switches, but nothing happened. "Porter, are any of your controls working?"

"They're not even lighting up."

"Great. Well, I guess we get out and walk." Cam had to poke and prod at his chair for a few moments to find the manual release for the restraints. He had been a bit wary about the lack of seatbelts when he first started flying the jumpers, but apparently the Ancients were more safety-conscious than they had appeared.

"Porter, Satterfield, check our own equipment and see what's working," Cam ordered. "Mehra, let's take a look outside."

The two of them retrieved their rifles from the makeshift racks mounted on the rear of the cockpit and headed into the after compartment. Mehra hit the hatch release and the door dropped down, noticeably slower than usual. Fortunately there were no obstructions to stop it from fully opening.

Cam and Mehra cautiously stepped outside. It was a warm and sunny day; quite a bit different than the last time Cam had smashed an aircraft into the ground. The first thing Cam saw was a long trough running through the dirt. It was about two or three hundred yards long, roughly jumper-width, and around five feet deep on average. There was a lot of displaced dirt scattered in both directions as well. Once they scrambled out of the ditch, they could see that the front half of the jumper was buried in a small hill.

"You certainly know how to make an impression, sir," Mehra said.

Cam grimaced and shot her a hard look. "Puns, Sergeant? Really?"

"Of course not, sir," she replied. She climbed up on top of the jumper and pulled out a small pair of field glasses. After a minute, she said, "It looks like this is just a natural meadow, not someone's field."

"That's good to hear," Cam said. He examined the jumper's hull as best he could, finding no obvious fractures or even so much as a scratch. There was no way of telling if that held true for the front without a lot of digging, though.

Porter and Satterfield exited the jumper while the two of them were studying the area and trying to figure out exactly which way the gate was. Porter looked up and said, "There's good news and there's bad news."

"There's always good news and bad news," Cam said. "Bad first."

"Most of our advanced electronics are dead," Porter said. "My computer won't start, the tricorder won't turn on, and my zat won't fire. The radios work once you set turn off the subspace booster and auto-encryption, but they can't get through the jamming. Basically nothing more complicated than a flashlight works."

Cam sighed. "And the good news?"

"Our guns should be fine," Satterfield replied. "Also, it looks like the equipment isn't actually fried, so if we get it back to the gate it should all start working again."

"Gotcha." Cam figured that working guns were always good news, as were non-broken GDOs. "Here's what we're gonna do. We'll pack up as much of our gear as we can, just in case we can't come back, and head for the gate. The sergeant and I figure we're about three, maybe four miles out, so we should be able to make it before our check-in."

"We're not going to investigate the source of the field?" Porter asked.

Cam shook his head. "Not unless you've got a way to find it without sensors."

"A compass might work." Porter looked at Mehra. "If the gate's that way, then that strong point the sensors showed should be over there."

Mehra pulled out a compass and consulted it. "Yeah, it's definitely pointing that way."

Cam thought about it a moment. If Porter was right, then the source of the energy field would be in easy walking distance. On the other hand, she had also said she couldn't be sure the strong point was the source at all, and walking that way would be away from the gate.

"Okay, fine," Cam said. "We'll check it out, but we're not going too far. We've got about two and a half hours to work with before we miss our check-in. I want to be in radio range before then, otherwise another team might come through and crash like we did." Or come through and not crash, knowing Sheppard's luck, and that would be almost as bad for Cam's ego.

The four of them filled up backpacks full of the more irreplaceable items the jumper held, such as the medical supplies and ammunition, just in case they couldn't come back. Cam and Porter also switched their zats out for Berettas, since the former no longer worked. Once they had all that they could comfortably carry, they sealed the jumper up -- Porter said something about unpowered shape-memory smart materials that amounted to 'the door works slowly but still works' -- and set off in the direction of the magnetic disturbance. The scenery was wholly unremarkable, just the same, light temperate forest that the Ancients seemed to have preferred. The only noticeable difference was the slightly lighter gravity, but Cam only lost a couple of pounds from it and the novelty soon wore off.

Mehra was in the lead and checked the compass from time to time. It was about thirty minutes into their trek that she signaled for them to halt and spent a few seconds studying the compass with a puzzled looked. .

"Huh. That's weird," she said. "It's over that way now." She pointed off to their right.

"Really?" Satterfield said. "Did we miss it?"

"I don't see how. I'm positive we've been going in a straight line this whole time."

"It's pretty easy to get a little off-course in a forest like this," Cam offered.

Mehra gave him a look that said, SERE training or no SERE training, an Air Force pilot had no business commenting on her land nav skills. "I suppose that's possible, sir."

Cam held up his hands. "Hey, we have no idea how big this thing is. It could be ten yards over that way and underground."

"That's also possible, sir."

They started off in their new direction. Ten minutes later, Mehra checked the compass again and stopped them with a soft curse.

"We're off course again," she said. "It's to our left now."

"Okay, that's weird," Cam said.

"You know, I've got a strange feeling about this whole thing," Satterfield said. "Sort of a vague foreboding. And I know what you're going to say, but this is different."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Cam said slowly. "It's... kinda an uncomfortable itchy feeling."

"Me too," Porter said. "I don't think it could be the magnetic field, though. It'd have to be incredibly strong to affect us."

Mehra snapped her fingers. "It's probably some kind of damned go-away ward. It'd explain why we keep drifting off our heading."

Cam nodded. There were a dozen little tricks that were commonly used by various secret organizations to keep unwanted trespassers away from placed like Area 51. Most of them messed with peoples' sense of direction or made them find some reason to turn around. That would describe their situation pretty well.

"Shouldn't the wards in our tags keep us from being affected?" he asked. While normal dog tags were nothing more than stamped metal, the ones worn by all Atlantis and Homeworld Security personnel had complex microcircuitry embedded in them. Among other things, they were supposed to provide protection against a variety of arcane threats. As a general rule they were well worth the thousand-dollar price tag.

"They might be," Porter said with a shrug. "The compulsion might normally be a lot stronger than what we're experiencing. Now that we know it's there, it shouldn't be too much of a problem to keep going."

"Good." Cam looked around and pointed at a low hill a short distance away. It wasn't in the direction they wanted to go, but it would suit his purposes just fine. "We'll get up there and see if we can do some visual recon before we go any closer. It'll give us something to aim for and hopefully a better idea of what's over there."

The hill proved to be insufficiently high to give them much a view through the forest. Fortunately, Mehra's relatively small size for a Marine worked in their favor and, after taking off her pack and slinging her rifle over her shoulder, she clambered up one of the sturdier-looking trees with remarkable speed.

"There's some ruins about a third of a mile from here," Mehra called down from her perch. "It looks like stone, no signs of any obvious technology."

That didn't necessarily mean anything, unfortunately. Stone was a fairly all-purpose, durable building material. Furthermore, the Ancients had a habit of making artifacts that looked like stone but were actually made of advanced materials beneath a thin covering. That might or might not have been a good sign, but they didn't get a chance to take a look. The rustling and snapping noises of people running through the underbrush filled the air. Cam and Satterfield raised their rifles, Porter drew her sidearm, and a few moments later Mehra dropped down to join them. She was just in time; a half-dozen people came into view all around them. They were all armed with bows and arrows, and several already had them nocked and drawn.

They were also, Cam realized after a second, a bunch of kids. The oldest boy looked to be in his late teens, but most couldn't be older than thirteen or fourteen, even allowing for poor nutrition.

"Uh, hi?" Cam said, even as he aimed his rifle for the nearest one with a drawn bow. It was almost painful to resist the urge to lower his weapon, but intellectually he knew the instinct to avoid shooting some poor kid wasn't a safe one to follow. Teenagers with weapons could still be dangerous under the wrong circumstances, and he couldn't be sure they were what they looked like.

"I'm sorry if we're trespassing or something," Cam tried after a drawn-out silence and wide eyes were the only responses to his greeting. Trespassing was always a good bet, according to the SGC operating manual, especially when near ruins, and Cam's Gran'ma had always said that it never hurt anyone to apologize even if they weren't sure they'd done something wrong. "We're just explorers having a look around. We didn't know anyone lived here."

"You're old!" one of the younger kids blurted out. One of the others hissed something at him, probably a name. To Cam's left, something that sounded distinctly like a snicker came from Porter.

"Well, I'm not young," Cam allowed. He wasn't even forty, damn it, and even in a low-tech society that wasn't that old. Plenty of people lived to that age if the managed to get to adulthood in the first place. Then again, Pegasus wasn't exactly normal. "How about we all lower our weapons? I don't think any of us wants to hurt anyone, but if we keep pointing arrows at each other someone's finger's gonna slip."

Cam slowly aimed his weapon at the ground and after a moment the oldest kid did as well. The rest of the team and the other kids followed suit.

"Who are you?" the leader asked.

"I'm Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell," Cam said. "You?"

"I am Pelaeus."

"I don't suppose your parents are around here somewhere?"

Pelaeus frowned. "My parents?"

"Or, you know, any other adults. Whoever's in charge."

"The elders." Pelaeus nodded firmly. "Of course. You need to meet with the elders. They'll know what to do."

Cam smiled. "Elders sound great to me."

"Come. Our village is this way."

If the group of kids were guards, they weren't very good ones. They all clumped together right ahead of the team, where a single spray of automatic fire could take them all down at once, and they only occasionally sent curious glances over their shoulders. More likely they were hunters out looking for game; Cam had been hunting their age with supervision from older cousins. Likely the team had been spotted by one or two of the kids who had then gathered the rest of them . Of course, none of that meant that they weren't leading the team right to the planet's actual defenders. More than one SG team had been tricked into following seemingly innocent natives straight into a trap. They would have to be on their toes, no matter how friendly the natives did or did not seem. Cam wasn't given to paranoia and found it a bit distasteful, but he knew better than to question the judgment of more experienced people unless given reason not to.

They continued to follow a game trail a ways until they entered an area where the underbrush was trampled down and then into an open, grassy clearing. There were a number of people there, tending fire pits, chopping wood, weaving baskets, and performing other day-to-day tasks. Many of them stopped and stared at the team, but Cam didn't stare back. He was too busy looking at the most prominent feature of the clearing.

The object looked like a skeleton that had been bleached white by the sun. It was easily fifty feet long, as big as an F-16, and roughly triangular in shape, with a long, sharply pointed nose and two stubby winglets at the rear. Most of it appeared to be made of bone, although it had a strange, almost metallic sheen to it, but here and there Cam could see what were clearly artificial parts. The most obvious were the large, semi-translucent globe at the rear and what was almost certainly a pair of weapons peeking out from under the belly, but strands of metal and plastic were woven in and around the entire thing. It rested on a bed of dark water-smoothed stones, which were laid out in a way that reminded Cam of a Japanese rock garden.

"Is that a Wraith fighter?" he asked, recalling blurred gun camera footage and descriptions from those who had seen some in person. The Wraith hiveship had been a living creature, so it seemed likely that the smaller ships would be the same and given time and decay one might look something like the thing before him.

Pelaeus turned and said with a proud smile, "It is one of the Enemy's sky-craft, yes. It was torn from the air many years ago and landed some miles away. It was carried here by our forefathers, to remind us of the dangers beyond the Well of the Ancestors."

"It was probably brought down by the same energy field that shut down the jumper," Porter said quietly.

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking," Cam agreed. "That's a pretty useful trick. I'd like to know how it works."

"The elders should be up here," Pelaeus told them as they reached a particularly thick tree. He meant it literally; there was a rope ladder dangling down from above and Cam suddenly realized there were several buildings up in the trees. "Wait here for a minute while I inform them that you are here."

"Sir," Mehra said, "just so you know, if there's any Ewoks, I'm going to have to shoot something."

"It'd be just our luck," Satterfield muttered, "to run into a bunch of singing, cannibalistic, miniature bears."

"Is it really cannibalism if they eat humans?" Porter asked.

"I'm embarrassed to even know you people," Cam said. After a moment, he added, "Could be worse, anyways. At least it's not Gungans."

Satterfield shook her head. "Off all the bad ideas to come out of the NID, I'm pretty sure that's one of the worst."

"What, seriously?" Cam said. "They're the ones who destroyed my childhood?"

"Yeah. It was part of a mass-hypnosis project to help cover up all the spaceships that SG-1 kept crashing or blowing up in orbit. Some bright mind down in Cognitive Ops figured everyone would go see the movies and it's easy to hide all sorts of brain hacks in CGI. The way I hear, someone zapped the idea of a new trilogy into Lucas' head, only they screwed it up somehow and, well, the next thing you know there's Jar Jar Binks."

"Christ." There were times when Cam wondered about the sanity, not to mention competency, of the other branches of Delta Green. Sure, they had been saving the world long before Stargate Command or the Experimental Fighter Squadron had come into being, but at times it seemed to be more due to dumb luck than anything else.

A whistle from above brought his thoughts back to the mission. Cam glanced up and saw Pelaeus waving him up. Cam waved back and clipped his rifle to his vest while judging the size of the oversized tree-fort.

"Looks a bit small," he said after a moment. If there was a fight, the close quarters could be a major disadvantage for them. "You three stay down -" Satterfield coughed, and Cam amended that, "by which I mean Mehra and Porter. Keep an eye on things, scope out escape paths, but stick close and try not to shoot anyone."

"If you insist, sir," Mehra said.

Cam started climbing up the ladder. The rungs were uncomfortably close together, like they were meant for someone much shorter than him, and he found himself taking them two at a time. Satterfield followed close behind him. The treehouse was about thirty feet up and it only took a few seconds to reach the open hole in the bottom of the structure. The interior reminded him of an old wooden cabin on a lake that his family had owned at one time, as it was full of hand-made furniture and decorations. The ceiling was low, only about six feet high, and the space was about twenty feet wide in each direction. The tree grew through one wall and there were low openings that were covered with drapes that led to the other side. Despite the small dimensions it was still fairly airy, as there were several open windows.

Besides Pelaeus, there were three other people in the room, all sitting cross-legged on a mat on the floor. One was a man and two were women, and none of them were a day over twenty-six or maybe twenty-seven if Cam was any judge. They certainly hadn't hit thirty. They watched with wide eyes as Cam and Satterfield settled onto mats opposite them.

"Hi," Cam said after a minute, when it became clear the natives weren't going to say anything first. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell. You can call me Cam. This is Lieutenant Sharon Satterfield."

"Hello," Satterfield said.

"I am Keras," the man said.

"And I am Toria," the woman closest to him said, "and this is Lessa."

"Nice to meet y'all," Cam said. "But I was expecting some elders."

Toria and Keras looked at each other, and after a moment she said, "We are the elders."

"Really," Cam replied, his brows lifting in surprise. "Just you?"

Keras nodded. "Ares is out hunting at the moment, but otherwise, yes, just us. You were expecting someone else?"

"Someone more my age, yeah."

Hesitantly, Keras asked, "How old are you?"

"Thirty-five."

"Thirty-five," Keras repeated faintly. "No wonder you look like that."

"Hey!" Cam protested. Beside him, Satterfield chuckled quietly. Cam glared at her for a moment, then asked Keras, "How about you?"

"Today marks the end of my twenty-fourth year," Keras replied.

"And that makes you an elder?" Cam said with a sinking feeling in his gut.

"I am the oldest man in this village," Keras told him. "Just as Toria is the oldest woman, and Aries and Lessa are the next oldest after that."

"Where are you from?" Toria asked. "No one in any of the villages is as old as you, and you could not possibly have reached here without passing through the lands of our neighbors."

"We came through the stargate," Cam said. Seeing their confusion, he tried, "The chappa'ai. The Ring?"

"It's about an hour's walk that way," Satterfield added.

"The Well of the Ancestors," Keras said. "No one has come through it in a dozen generations."

That would explain why the Athosians didn't recognize the address, Cam thought. "We came through it looking for trade opportunities," he said. "I'm sorry if we trespassed on your lands."

"No, no, that's quite all right," Keras said. "You caused no harm, there is no need to apologize."

"I'm surprised you got so far without being spotted," Toria said. "The clearings around the Well are usually full of berry-pickers at this time of year."

"We had an aircraft," Cam explained. "We flew through the gate and a fair distance. Then, well." He shrugged and grinned sheepishly. "It decided to stop flying. We were trying to figure out why and thought we were going to have to hike back home."

"You flew," Lessa said. "That must be wonderful."

"It was," Satterfield said, "right up until the end. No offense, sir."

"It must have been the protections laid down by the ancestors," Keras said. "Our world is guarded against the Wraith. Their flying machines fall from the sky and their eyes do not see us. Or at least that is what the legends say. They have not come here for many generations."

"No Wraith," Cam said. "That's not something you hear every day."

"That is unfortunate," Toria said. "We would be happy to show you the easiest path back to the Well. I am sure you must be eager to return home."

Cam thought about it for a moment. While the large hangar over the control room held dozens of jumpers, they were effectively irreplaceable. If there was any chance of getting it back, it was worth exploring. More than that, he wanted to find out what could keep the Wraith away. It might be something they could replicate and use to defend Athos, or maybe even Atlantis if they could prevent it from shutting down Ancient technology. There was also the matter of the low age of the planet's elders to think about. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer, because it seemed too low to be easily explained by disease or accident, but it still needed to be investigated.

"Do we have to leave immediately?" Cam asked. "We were hoping that we might find a way to repair our aircraft. It was created by our own ancestors and we can't build more like it."

"The protections are very powerful," Toria said with a slight frown. "If it brought down your flying machine already, it is unlikely it can be fixed."

"We'd like to try, though. It's very important to us."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think it would be wise. People like yourself should not be here."

"Well, I think it would be fine," Keras said with a smile. "I don't think a few hours should be any problem. According to the tales, when the traders used to come, they were allowed to stay until nightfall. So long as... Cam and his friends are gone by then, I see no reason they can't try to repair their machine."

Toria sighed. "Keras, that was long ago."

"But he is right," Lessa said. "The law says that when traders from beyond the world visit, they may bring with them ancient folk, so long as the ancients do not go beyond the village of Annulae and leave the world before the sun is gone." She said it as though she was reciting something from memory. "It is not even noon, they have several hours before they must leave."

"The others will be uncomfortable."

"Our ship is some distance from the village, ma'am," Satterfield said. "We'll be out of sight and out of mind."

"And I will personally keep watch over them," Keras said.

Toria's mouth was set in a firm line, but she nodded. "Very well. I do not like it, but the law is the law. With that said, Keras, don't you have better things to do on today of all days?"

"I can't think of a better way to spend this afternoon than learning something new," Keras said. "You can't deny me that."

"If that is your desire, then so be it. I wish you good luck, Cam, Sharon."

"Come," Keras said. He led them back through the hole in the floor and to the ground, slipping down the ladder with an ease that spoke of a lifetime of climbing. Mehra and Porter were waiting for them, with a small crowd of kids around them. Porter had found a coin somewhere and was keeping them entertained with magic tricks. Most of them were watching with wide eyes, but here and there Cam saw older teens with tight, unhappy expressions. Keras let Porter finish a trick before shooing everyone away.

Cam quickly introduced the rest of his team to Keras and asked, "I don't want to pry, but I can't help but notice everyone around here's pretty young."

"Young? No, not especially," Keras said. "I'm old. Although not ancient, like you."

"I don't think that word means what you think it means," Cam said.

"I'm sure it's a translation issue, Colonel," Porter said with a smile. "You know how finicky it can be."

Keras asked her, "How many years do you have you?"

"Twenty-seven."

"Same here," Mehra said.

"And I'm going to be twenty-six in about a month," Satterfield finished, "give or take a couple days depending on what planet you want to go by."

Keras shook his head. "I can hardly believe it."

"Neither can I sometimes," Cam said. He hadn't set out to assemble a team full of people ten years younger than he was, but it had worked out that way due to simple demographics. The expedition skewed heavily toward younger people, with a lot of people fresh out of graduate programs on the civilian side and a lot of young privates and corporals among the marines. Discounting the Athosians, the youngest man on base was nineteen.

"Why isn't there anyone older than you?" Cam asked.

"The sacrifice, of course," Keras said as if it were self-evident.

"Sacrifice," Cam repeated. It felt like there was a lump of ice forming in his gut. He had heard all the rumors and read the reports, of strange off-world rituals and dangerous cults even on Earth, but he had never expected to see one up close. It was possible the sacrifice was something relatively innocuous, like people at a certain age -- say, twenty-five -- leaving the villages and setting off into the wilderness or through the gate. Somehow, Cam didn't think that was the case.

"I could explain it to you," Keras said eagerly.

"I'd like that," Cam lied. He glanced around his team. Satterfield and Mehra had carefully neutral expressions, but Porter looked unsettled. "We do need to get to work, though. Would it be okay if Doctor Porter and Sergeant Mehra went ahead and got started?"

"Of course." Keras called out to a couple of the villagers, a boy and a girl who looked to be about ten. "Perla, Tabor, these two women need to go to one of the clearings near the eastern brook. Make sure they don't get lost."

"We'll catch up with you two in a bit," Cam said. "Doc, Sergeant, do your best to find the source of the problem and fix the jumper if you can."

"Of course, Colonel."

"Yes, sir."

The two of them set off with their guides in tow, although both kids seemed more excited to be around strangers than worried about guarding them. Cam didn't like to split up the team, but someone had to go check out the source of the energy field. If they could locate it, they might be able to shut it down long enough for them to get the jumper out. There wouldn't be much chance of messing with any technology if Keras was watching, though, so Cam had to keep him distracted. He wanted to know exactly what they were dealing with in any case.

"The ritual site is this way," Keras said, pointing across the village. "The sacrifice is what protects us from the Wraith, and what insures that we go on to the next life in peace."

"The next life?" Satterfield said.

"Yes. Long ago, the Wise Ones realized that the Wraith were such horrible abominations that when they devour their victims, they do not simply kill them, but twist and corrupt their very souls. Anyone who dies at the hand of a Wraith cannot pass beyond this world into the better one that waits for us on the other side. For that reason, they decided that the only way to insure that they and all who would follow them could reach eternal peace was to insure that the Wraith could never come and steal us away. No price would be too high to pay for that."

"I've heard that before," Cam said quietly. People would do a lot of crazy things if they thought they would be guaranteed paradise. However, unlike jihadists, crusaders, or a dozen other varieties of true believers on Earth, these 'Wise Ones' might have had a rational basis to believe it existed. On Earth, the existence of the human soul had been empirically proven decades before. People like Daniel Jackson had even confirmed there was something beyond death, although exactly what it was no one could say. There was no reason the Wise Ones, who were obviously far more advanced than the current natives, couldn't have learned the same information. They could also have learned that a soul could be damaged just like any other part of the human mind, and that there were things out there that could destroy it outright. Cam didn't know one way or another if the Wraith were one of those things, but he could see why the faintest possibility would terrify people into doing something extreme.

"You have?" Keras asked. "Does that mean you that you do a sacrifice of your own?"

Cam shook his head. "Not the same way you do, although I suppose military service is sort of like it. A few of us fight and sometimes die, so that most people don't have do."

Keras nodded slowly. "I see. That seems like a noble choice, although a terrible one. I cannot imagine having to take such a great risk. Surely you must loose many souls that way, especially if the Wraith know where you are."

"We only just arrived on a new world and they don't know where we are, at least right now," Cam said. "I'm interested in knowing how they don't know about you, though, given that they clearly did before."

"I shall continued, then," Keras said. "For years there was debate over how best to protect our home and our people. Some wanted to fight, perhaps as you do, but others thought that there was no hope in defeating the Wraith and the best method was to insure they had no reason to come here. It was only in the aftermath of a great culling that left our people devastated that a decision was made. The brightest minds of Wise Ones turned their energies toward the design and construction of the ritual sites, and the preparations for the new society that they would build. Once they were ready, the first and greatest sacrifice was made, as all of those who were too old to continue gave their lives to protect those who would come after them."

Cam couldn't help but notice there was no mention again of those who wanted to stand and fight. Somehow he doubted that dissenters were allowed to stick around or go through the gate, especially since there was apparently some kind of mass sacrifice of everyone over the age of twenty-five.

"Here, we have reached the ritual site," Keras said. They passed through a ring of regularly spaced trees and came to a structure similar to a Greek-style amphitheater. It was made from stone and partially carved into the side of a somewhat steep slope. There were a dozen levels of seating that formed a precise half-circle around the center, with enough space for four or five hundred people. At the focus was a circular dais, and at the center of that was what could only be called an altar. There were posts for torches at regular intervals around the entire structure.

Keras led them down a set of steps to the dais and altar. The first thing Cam noticed as they reached the dais was the complex carvings that covered it. There were numerous intertwining circles, arcs, and other geometric shapes. None of it meant anything to him, but he was sure that there was a purpose to them. Up close he could see that there was metal down inside the carvings, and when he bent down to touch one particularly large circle he felt the tell-tale static tingle of naquadah.

A brief look at the altar itself confirmed all of Cam's worst suspicions. A large man could easily lie on top of it and there were several metal rings at positions that would be about right for wrist and ankle restraints. There were fine metal insets running across the surface, with an especially complex node in the general area that a head would rest, and grooves that would channel blood down into the dais carvings. The stone surface even had a faint reddish-brown stain.

"So I take it this is where the actual sacrifice is performed," Cam said with a dry mouth.

"Yes, it is," Keras replied. "At every full and empty moon, the village gathers here to bear witness to the sacrifice and remember those who have gone before. Anyone who has reached twenty-five years is laid upon upon the altar, and his or her chosen second uses a special knife to cut open their arteries. So it is done at each village at their own ritual sites." He must have seen something in their expressions, because he hastily added, "I assure you, it is quite painless. We have a drink that ensures that passing one is relaxed and feels nothing."

"So everyone does this at twenty-five?" Cam asked.

"Yes. The only exception is for pregnant women, but once the child is born and a wetnurse is found, they make the sacrifice at the next moon."

"And people just goes along with this?" Satterfield asked, her voice flat and emotionless.

Keras hesitated. "There are sometimes people who are frightened, but we do everything we can to calm them and to make sure the last day is happy. I can remember more than one person who has chosen to spend their last day getting drunk with friends."

"No one at all resists?"

There was a longer hesitation, then he said, "It is very rare, and we have always been able to convince them to see reason." Keras smiled faintly. "I know it may sound strange, but it seems completely normal to us. It is simply a fact of life that we die upon our twenty-fifth birthday. I myself will be making the sacrifice tonight, and I'm sure you can see I have no problem with it."

Cam gave him a sharp look. "Tonight?"

"Yes. I was born shortly before the full moon twenty-five years ago, and so tonight I shall return here and pass on to the next world."

Keras said it so calmly that he may as well have been talking about a trip to the grocery. Cam was shaken up enough for the two of them, though. He couldn't help but imagine any of the young people he knew in the same position: his younger cousins, nephews, and nieces; the men and women under his command; hell, himself or his brother at that age. The urge to do something, anything, was almost overwhelming.

He forced himself to keep his mind on the mission and asked, "Do you know how the sacrifice keeps the Wraith away?"

Keras smiled again, more brightly this time. "Now that is a very interesting question, and something that is much debated. Part of it is, of course, that we die under in a controlled, peaceful manner. On occasion we lose people to accident, but even then it is better than being destroyed by a Wraith."

"Right, if you die before they get you, they can't eat your brains," Cam said.

"Our brains?" Keras said, puzzled. "The stories tell that they suck the entire body dry, not just the brain."

"Yeah, but that's where your mind is, and your soul."

"The mind, yes, but the soul is in the liver, where the Wraith place their hands." Keras said it like he was speaking with someone who was a bit slow.

Cam was saved from having a discussion of theological physiology by a crackle from his radio.

"Colonel Mitchell, come in, please," Porter said, her voice faint and static-filled but recognizable nonetheless. "Colonel Mitchell, please respond."

"Hold on," Cam said to Keras. He walked a few feet away and quietly said into his radio, "Go ahead, doc."

"We found the device that was creating the jamming field and shut it down," Porter said. "It was pretty simple -- we just unplugged the ZPM. We're heading for the jumper now."

"Say again, Porter," Cam said, wondering if he had heard correctly. "Did you say ZPM?"

"Yes, sir," she replied happily. "I don't know how much of a charge it has, but it's obviously got at least a little juice."

"That's great news," Cam said. "How soon can you get to the jumper?"

There was short pause, and then Sergeant Mehra answered, "About ten minutes tops, sir."

"We'll catch you in fifteen, then. Mitchell out." Cam looked at Satterfield. "Lieutenant, you have a camera, right? Get some pictures of this place."

"Yes, sir," Satterfield said, pulling a small digital camera from her tac vest.

Cam turned back to Keras. "Sorry about the interruption. It sounds like the repairs to our flying machine are going well. We might want to head that way in a minute or two."

"That is good to hear," Keras replied.

"So you were saying that the... peaceful death is just one aspect of the protection your people have."

"Yes. This is where things become somewhat unclear. There are two schools of thought regarding the sacrifice: the Passivists, and the Activists. I myself believe the former to be most likely. The Passivists say that is it the age of the sacrifice that is important, rather than the act itself. The Wraith seek healthy adults, yes? People like you or myself. We are the strongest, and therefore we are the most nourishing. The stories of the Wise Ones say that people can remain strong to even to such incredible ages as sixty or even seventy, and live even longer. Is that true?"

Cam nodded. "Yeah, pretty much. Most people start getting a bit out of shape in their forties for fifties, although it varies a lot."

Keras nodded rapidly. "I thought so. With us, there are mostly children and young adults who have not reached their full growth, who are of little use to the Wraith. There are not many who are twenty or older. There are also only seventy-seven villages. Because of that, there is no reason for the Wraith to come here any longer. Either we are not worth the effort, or their hunting methods can only find older adults."

"It makes sense, I suppose," Cam said. "They'd want adults in their prime who have already had a fair number of children to replace themselves, and you deny them that."

He understood the reasoning even though he thought it was incorrect given what he knew of Wraith technology and hunting habits. If the population wasn't worth a major attack, they could still be good for the occasional raid.

"It's all nonsense, of course," a young man called from behind them. Cam turned to see a man of about Keras' age descending the steps. "If the Wraith are as vicious as the tales say, then they would still kill us out of spite. There's far more evidence to suggest the sacrifice is an active process."

"Cameron, this is Ares," Keras said as the other man reached them. "Tomorrow, he will become the eldest man of the village. As you might guess, he is an Activist."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Cam said with a polite nod.

Ares studied him for a moment before nodding back and saying, "It is nice to meet you as well."

"So what do you believe is right?" Cam asked.

"The sacrifice obviously protects us from the Wraith. It knocks their flying machines from the sky and hides us from their sight. If that was not the case, why would the Wise Ones have built the ritual sites and prescribed how the sacrifice should be carried out?"

"I will admit, your arrival and subsequent fall from the air is somewhat inconvenient," Keras said to Cam. "Although it could be argued that the Wise Ones may have left some other defense to discourage the Wraith and keep them from bothering with such meager prey. Further, not everyone dies as is prescribe, due to accident or... other reasons, and yet the Wraith do not come when their twenty-fifth moon passes. There is also the question of how the sacrifice works, since there is no obvious mechanism."

Ares shrugged. "So my philosophy has some holes. Yours has more." He looked to Cam. "I do find it interesting that a Passivist is so willing to host ancients among us, though. Will that not attract the Wraith?"

"The law allows for short visits," Keras said. "Who am I to question the Wise Ones?"

"We'll be on our way pretty soon," Cam said to Ares. "In fact, we were about to go see if our machine was ready to fly again."

"That is good," Ares said. "I mean you no disrespect, but your presence is unsettling to many of the villagers. Keras also has other things to attend to."

"They will be gone before nightfall," Keras told him, "and I will be ready by then as well."

"I am sure that you will be."

Cam, sensing that it might be best to get a move on, called out, "Satterfield, we're leaving! It was nice meeting you, Ares. I'm sorry we don't have more time to talk, but like you said, it'd be best if we got going. Maybe some day we'll send some of our younger people to here more, maybe trade some."

"Perhaps. Good day to you."

Keras lead Cam and Satterfield back through the village and toward the jumper. It took about ten minutes and Keras spent it telling them more about his world. There were seventy-seven villages, the furthest a good two weeks' walk from the gate. Cam got the impression that they had been spread out in a pattern meant to insure each had the resources to be mostly self-sufficient, although there was regular trade between them. In fact, one of the things they traded were children. At the age of three, when there was a good chance of survival to adulthood, each child was sent to a different village to mix the blood. The children were raised communally rather than by any single parent, which made sense given that most parents wouldn't see their oldest child reach ten. Keras was amazed that Cam had a large, well-connected family. Cam only had one brother, but Cam's daddy was the youngest of five and his Momma also had several siblings. Satterfield had two siblings, James and Ha-Neul, but Keras seemed to understand her family better as her mother had followed her father, an American soldier, from Korea to America. The fact that neither Korea nor America were villages probably wasn't worth explaining.

When they reached the jumper, Porter was working on one of the overhead electronics compartments, Mehra was at the ramp, and the two kids who had accompanied them were playing around it. Porter had an odd expression on her face, like she couldn't decide if she was thrilled or disgruntled.

"How's it going?" Cam asked.

"There's good news and there's bad news again," Porter said, closing the compartment up and stepping outside. "The good news is that there's not much damage. Most of systems are functioning just fine."

"Most?"

"The bad news is that the impact broke something in the port engine." She reached down and picked up cylinder about the size of a beer bottle. "I have no idea what this does, but it's cracked. We might be able to make it home on just the starboard engine, but I'm not sure."

Cam grimaced. "How had will it be to fix?"

Porter shrugged. "I think our best bet would be to just pull one from another jumper for now rather than try to repair it. It shouldn't take long to just plug a new one in."

"How long do we have until nightfall?" Cam asked Keras. "We need to go home and get something to fix our machine."

"You have four, perhaps five hours," Keras said, looking up at the sun to gauge its position. "As long as you are not gone long, you should have plenty of time to walk there and back again."

"Yeah, that'll be easy to do. Porter, do you have everything you need to take back?"

Porter nodded. "Everything important is in my pack, Colonel, including the other part that I mentioned over the radio."

Cam smiled. "Good. In that case, let's hit the road, ladies."

"Road?" Keras asked.

"Figure of speech."

They made good time on the walk back to the gate. About halfway there, Atlantis dialed in for the scheduled check-in. Cam informed Elizabeth of what had happened and they decided that it would be easier for them to walk the rest of the way rather than send another jumper through and possibly anger the locals. It wasn't like a little hiking would hurt them. Upon reaching the gate, they said goodbye to Keras, who said he would wait for them to return.

Once home, the team passed through medical and delivered a preliminary report. It was a decidedly grim debriefing, despite the fact that they had found a ZPM and a possible weapon against the Wraith in the form of the jamming device. The nature of the planet's society and the sacrifice cast a shadow over the entire affair. After a few minutes, Elizabeth sent them away to determine whether or not the ZPM and jammer would be useful and make plans to retrieve the jumper.

Cam wolfed down a quick lunch and headed for the labs to do some investigating. He brought a USB drive with the pictures Satterfield had taken with him. He came to one lab, which had a large warning sign taped to the wall next to it: "DO NOT ENTER WHILE LIGHT IS ON -- METAPHYSICAL EXPERIMENTS IN PROGRESS". Right below it was a batter-powered red LED light. It wasn't on, so Cam tapped the door control and very carefully stepped inside. He wasn't stupid, after all, and so he operated on the assumption that anyone inside had been eaten by a brain-eating monstrosity no matter what the light said.

This particular lab was mostly empty space. Near the door were a set of work stations and computers of both Tau'ri and Lantean origin, beyond that was a large open area, about ten yards on a side. Attached to the ceiling were a number of laser emitters and video projectors, most of which were aimed at the floor. At present they were painting the floor with a complex grid of laser lines, with a strange, shifting fractal pattern projected inside a circle at the center. Looking at it made Cam's eyes water, not just because of the brightness of the lines but because it didn't seem like it could quite fit inside the area it did. That wasn't the strangest thing in the room, though -- in fact, compared to some things these researchers got up to, it was positively normal. No, the strange thing was the collection of birds in the room. On one side, there were several cages with about a half-dozen squawking seagulls, crows, and other assorted avians. On the other were another dozen birds, but these were utterly silent and completely still, right up until they all simultaneously turned their heads to stare at Cam with beady, softly-glowing eyes.

"Ah, Colonel Mitchell!" Doctor Markov said from behind one of the stations. She had a pair of dark safety glasses on. Grodin was at the next computer down. "How are you?"

"I've been better," Cam admitted. "How about you two?"

Markov shrugged. "Nothing has gone wrong yet today, so I count myself as satisfied."

"What's all this?"

"We're in the process of creating the unobtrusive surveillance system you requested for Athos. It's quite simple, really. We summon a minor extradimensional entity and load it into the birds' brains. They'll be instructed to keep watch over the area around the gate and every few days we can dial in and remotely download what they saw. We'll try to get some owls for night vision capability. Obviously it won't be perfect, but it should be good enough to keep track of any visitors."

"Ah," Cam said. He looked at the possessed birds, which were still staring at him. "I was kind of thinking you'd build a little webcam or something."

"We thought about that, but birds can power themselves and are easier to replace. It's much easier to use them. Major Lorne thought it was a good idea, since we don't need remote basilisk capability."

"Major Lorne thinks a lot of weird things are good ideas," Cam said. Another thought came to him. "Has anyone told Teyla that you're going to unleash a bunch of zombie birds on her planet?"

"I did not," Markov said. "Peter, did you?"

Grodin shrugged. "I assumed that you or Doctor Weir had told her."

Cam winced. "Do me a favor and don't say anything to her, will you? I'll talk to her myself." Or more likely, he would get John to do it.

"All right. Was there something you needed?"

"I need you to take a look at some pictures and analyze them for me," Cam said, handing over the thumb drive. "These are from a ritual site on the planet we just visited. Supposedly they're used to keep the Wraith away, probably by hiding the people near them. I need to know if that's true or not."

"Of course. Give us a second." The scientists took off their glasses and plugged the drive into a laptop. In short order they had the pictures up and were enthusiastically examining.

"Well, that's definitely Dho-Na geometry," Grodin said. "It's relatively complex for a static structure, although I have to say, not as impressive as the ones the Athosian bunkers had."

"These nodes here look like a variant on the Rune of al-Sabbah," Markov said, pointing at several spots on the images. "They're definitely trying to play some mind games. These matrix arrays also look somewhat familiar. Off-hand, I'd guess that I've seen it as part of a Goa'uld cloaking device."

"You said this was supposed to cover any entire village?" Grodin asked Cam. "Is it completely invisible from the outside?"

"We didn't have any problem seeing them, although we were on the ground the entire time. They do go outside the villages without any problems, if that's important."

"Interesting. I would guess that it may be tuned to affect only Wraith senses, then. It would cut down on the power requirements somewhat. It might also hide just the people and not the entire village."

"I agree," Markov said. "Hiding life-signs and fooling optics would be fairly simple, especially if there aren't very many. Do you know what kind of metal this is?"

"I think it's some kind of naquadah alloy," Cam answered. "We weren't really in a position to get samples."

"I thought that might be the case. It's obviously sacrificed-powered, with exsanguinations as the cause of death. That's not surprising, since removing an observer from the universe is a common way to disrupt the senses of other observers. The problem tends to be keeping the effect going once it's started, but naquadah makes an excellent soul capacitor."

Grodin frowned. "This isn't the sort of thing that you could just start up any time the Wraith got near, even if you had advanced warning. They probably kill something fairly regularly -- or someone, more likely. You'd pretty much need a human sacrifice to make this work, barring access to something like chimps or dolphins."

"They sacrifice everyone on their twenty-fifth birthday," Cam said. "In fact, when they started the entire thing up, it sounds like they killed everyone over that age in a short period of time." He could tell from the way they both froze that his statement had suddenly turned this from theoretical research for them to something much more real.

"Well," Markov said after a few moments. "That would certainly keep up a fairly steady stream of... power sources. Add that to the naquadah and they could sustain a cloaking effect over, say, a ten or twenty mile radius."

"That pretty much confirms what I thought," Cam said. It was clearly useless as a defensive measure, unless there was some other way to power it. Chances were that the Ancients had something at least as good, if not better, sitting somewhere in the city anyways. Certainly the jumpers didn't thirst for blood every time they cloaked. "What I need to know is what would happen if occasionally a sacrifice wasn't made on schedule. Say, because someone fell out of a tree."

"It's hard to say without thoroughly examining and scanning the site," Grodin said. "There's a number of variables at play. However, if the dates of the sacrifice are based on birthdays, then there's probably not a set schedule as such. I imagine that there's a fair amount of leeway built in to the design. The exact amount really depends on the size of the population."

"Call it around three, maybe four hundred people for each village," Cam said.

"That works out to about twelve or so people a year," Grodin said. "I'd say there wouldn't be much trouble missing two or three, maybe even four. It would depend on the exact spacing."

"With that said," Markov added, "if they did drop below a critical level, the anti-detection field would start to fail. It might do so gradually, or it might hold out for a while and then collapse completely. I think it's safe to say that if did fail, there wouldn't be any easy way to restart it."

"That's pretty much what I needed to know," Cam said. "Thanks for the help. You can go on back to your project."

"We're glad to be of assistance, Colonel," Markov said, slipping her glasses back on. "If you need anything else, please feel free to ask."

Cam's next stop was his office so he could check in with his subordinates. Everything was running smoothly. He would have liked to say that he had expected as much, given the quality of his senior officers and NCOs, but he knew from personal experience that one of them was a bit ornery, and he suspected that a couple of others were just good at hiding it. He wouldn't have been surprised to find out that something had been accidentally blown up while he was away. After that, it largely became a matter of waiting to hear from Porter about the jumper. Cam tried to relax and found he couldn't, not with the situation on 667 hanging over him. He turned to paperwork to give him something mindless to do. Ag &amp; Botany's latest report regarding the newly planted vegetable garden on the east pier wasn't interesting, but it was important and better than thinking about the poor kids on the planet.

Thirty minutes later, a set of emails appeared in his inbox. One was from Porter and Doctor Simpson, the lead aerospace engineer. It confirmed that the repair should be a simple one, but just in case they would haul along not just the broken part but spares for that entire assembly. If all else failed, they thought it would be possible to turn on the jumper's anti-gravity system but not the main engines and slowly float the ship back to the gate. The second was from McKay and contained a brief but extremely enthusiastic description of how he would shortly save all their lives using his new ZPM, although examination of the fine print in his report seemed to indicate that it wasn't actually all that useful. Finally, Elizabeth wanted to meet with him before his team left to retrieve the jumper to discuss some concerns she had with the mission. Cam headed straight for her office and found her and McKay waiting.

"We need to determine what course of action we'll be taking with regards to M7G-667," Elizabeth said. "As I see, there are two paramount issues. The first is whether we will continue to have contact with the local population once the jumper is retrieved. The second is the disposition of the zero-point module."

"What about the ZPM?" McKay asked suspiciously.

"As I understand from Doctor Porter's report, the ZPM was only removed from the device it was powering in order to shut down the dampening field on the planet," Elizabeth said. "After that, she followed standard orders and brought it home. However, does leave us in something of a sticky situation."

"We have a ZPM that we didn't have before. There's nothing sticky about that."

"How about sticky in the sense of sticky fingers?" Cam asked. "It doesn't belong to us."

"They weren't using it," McKay scoffed.

"I think using it to power a defense system counts as using it," Cam replied. "We would be removing a major part of their protection against the Wraith. We can't do that."

"I tend to agree," Elizabeth said. "While ideally we would negotiate to acquire any ZPMs held by natives, I recognize that in some cases it might be necessary to take them by more underhanded means. In this case, though, doing so would directly endanger the rightful owners."

"Look, I understand where you're coming from," McKay said. "I don't want to put a bunch of kids at risk, either. But I really don't think the risk is all that bad. I've looked at the pictures Mitchell's team brought back and the data on the dampening field. It's clear that the sensor-jamming wards are the main line of defense. The dampening field alone would not prevent the Wraith from using optics to see them from orbit and then nuking them from there Hell, they could just stroll in on foot and chow down if they wanted to. Losing the dampening field might, and I emphasize might, put them at a bit more risk from purely mechanical probes, but given the Wraith emphasis on organic technology I don't think that's a problem."

"What if they do send some kind of probe?" Cam asked.

"Why would they? As far as they're concerned, the planet has been empty for three hundred years. It's a navigational hazard, not a feeding ground."

"I'm not sure we can assume that'll always be the case. For all we know, the Wraith might probe all the planets they control when they start a culling cycle."

"Which they won't do for another twenty years, unless we're very, very unlucky."

"I think you both have good points," Elizabeth said. "I do have to ask, Rodney, how much use the ZPM would be to us in any case. Your report was a bit on the concise side, but I was left with the impression that it was almost drained."

McKay shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Well, yes, it is. We're talking maybe a percent or two of capacity, at most. It's been powering the dampening field this entire time, which is pretty hard considering that it's sitting in the middle of said power-dampening field, and we don't know how much energy it started with."

"Can us you give us a ballpark idea of what capabilities we'd gain?"

"We have a number of ideas that we're exploring. Obviously it will take some time to determine what's viable and what's not. There are a lot of variables at play, such as whether a large power draw will result in less net energy release than a small draw, or vice versa. You see, we think it might be like some kind of batteries, where if you pull power out too rapidly you can dramatically reduce efficient and waste a lot of energy, although we haven't --"

Elizabeth cut him off. "Just give us an idea of the time we'd have, say, key defensive systems."

McKay sighed and admitted, "Call it ten minutes on the primary defensive shield, maybe more with the secondary local shields. That'd be reduced under a bombardment, though. Assuming the control chair we found in the basement works, we should also be able to fire off a few hundred drones."

"Could we dial Earth?" Cam asked.

"Dial, yes. We could only sustain a wormhole for a few seconds, though, even with all of our reactors tied in. It wouldn't be safe to send a person through, let alone evacuate the entire expedition."

"So basically what you're saying is that we'd be ganking their ZPM at no gain to ourselves," Cam concluded.

"Look, I'm positive we can come up with a bunch of useful applications, given time," McKay said. "We haven't even had an hour to look at the thing."

"I'm sure you could, Rodney," Elizabeth said. "But under the circumstances, I can't justify keeping the ZPM. Cameron, once the jumper has returned to Atlantis, I want you to replace the ZPM and reactivate the dampening field."

Cam nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"That brings us to the next matter. I find myself extremely uncomfortable with the society on 667. To be blunt, if we were still at the SGC I would recommend that no further contact be made with them. They clearly use proscribed methods to power their defensive systems, but I see no reason to believe that they pose a threat to us and so there's no pressing need to intervene. However, our situation here is somewhat more precarious, and so I am open to hearing reasons that we might need to continue relations with them. Colonel, do you have any thoughts?"

"I'm really not sure what we should do," Cam said with a weary sigh. "I don't think they have anything that's really worth trading for, especially compared to planets with more plentiful exports. About the most I can say is that there's probably naquadah somewhere on the planet, but where it is I have no idea and mining it could prove problematic."

"I have the feeling there's a 'but' coming," Elizabeth said.

"But I can't help but think that we have some kind of obligation to them," Cam finished. "I mean, for Christ's sake, they're a bunch of kids! Even the oldest of them barely qualify as adults."

"Most of your marines, and for that matter you yourself, decided to join the military at eighteen," Elizabeth pointed out

"Yeah, I know, and I know that they have different standards than we do," Cam said. "The thing is, my men and I had a choice about whether we wanted to serve. These people aren't allowed to decide for themselves whether it's worth the risk to have a full life. Someone made it for them generations ago. That doesn't sit right with me."

"I know how you feel. I've seen first-hand what happens when children are forced to grow up too fast," Elizabeth said gently. "I simply don't think we have any other option but to let things stand. We have no way to convince them that their ways are wrong. Why would they believe us over what they've been told their entire lives? And even if they did listen, their society is structured to handle a fixed population. They would probably be looking at a famine within a year or two."

"Not to mention their main defensive measure would vanish in a puff of smoke," McKay added.

"Yeah, I know," Cam said. "I've read enough reports and history books to know that meddling with good intentions can backfire badly. I just think we have an obligation to at least keep in touch, maybe build a rapport and see if we can cause a gradual change, even if just on an individual level."

Elizabeth considered it for a moment, then nodded. "I don't think there would be any harm in send an occasional trade mission, maybe with more people at the same age as their older inhabitants. We can't afford to devote many resources to it, but it might be a starting point."

"Thanks. I'll write up a proposal after I get back," Cam said. He thought that she genuinely meant what she said, but he had a nagging feeling that nothing would ever come of it, certainly not anytime soon. They had too many other things to worry about at present. Even his own professional instincts told him that it wasn't worth the effort unless the locals turned out to be sitting on an easily-accessed pile of naquadah or trinium.

"Is there anything else?" she asked.

"There is one other thing. What's our policy on requests for asylum?"

"We can't afford to take on many refugees and we should avoid encouraging anyone to make such a request," Elizabeth said carefully. "That's especially true in delicate situations like this one. However, I trust you and the other team leaders to use your judgment."

"I'll do my best," Cam assured her. "If that's it, I'd like to get moving. We've got another hike ahead of us and we need to be gone by sundown."

"Of course. You're dismissed."

A few minutes later Cam and his team were once more on 667. Keras was waiting for them, along with several other kids ranging in age from around eight or nine to an older teen girl. Porter and Mehra, who had produced a bag of Lifesavers and other candies drawn from the expedition's "relations improvement" supplies, almost immediately attracted the younger ones.

"Did you get what you need for your flying machine?" Keras asked as they began walking.

"Yep," Cam said. He patted the backpack he was wearing, which had jumper parts and the ZPM. "It shouldn't take too long. We'll be out of your hair by nightfall."

"Do you ever plan to return, Cameron?" asked the oldest girl, who had stuck closer to Cam and Keras. Something was off about her. She expression and tone were so devoid of genuine interest that she may as well have been a robot. In Cam's experience, that tended to be a sign of someone who was trying to sound polite and normal but overshooting by a wide margin.

"This is Atira," Keras said.

"Pleased to meet you, miss," Cam said with a nod. "Someone might come and talk with y'all about trade, but it'll be someone closer to your own age, not me."

"I see," Atira said.

"I have been sharing with some of the others what you've told me of your family and home," Keras said with a wide smile. "I was hoping you could tell more stories, perhaps of the other worlds you have been to."

"Sure, I could do that," Cam said. Truth be told, he hadn't been on all that many planets, and only a couple with native people. He figured it wouldn't hurt to fudge a little and talk about other places, though. He'd lived in North Carolina, Kansas, California, and Texas as a kid, following his dad from post to post; then as an adult he had been stationed overseas in Italy, Japan, and Afghanistan and visited or flown over even more places. Each of those may as well have been a different alien planet as far as Keras and the others were concerned, given how limited their own experiences were.

"Okay, so I finished flight school when I was twenty-two," Cam said. "My first assignment was to Italy, to fly missions over Bosnia. Where Bosnia is and why we were flying there isn't really relevant for the moment. What's important is that Italy has a well-deserved reputation for good food, historic sites, and beautiful women. My best friends there were a lady named Sam and a guy name Fergie. Now, don't get me wrong, they're great people, but Fergie had a habit of getting us into trouble and Sam isn't half as innocent as she looks -- unlike me, of course...."

Even the abridged version of their time in Italy, considerably edited to remove the nun incident and other things unsuitable for some members of the audience, held their attention most of the way to the jumper. Cam kept needing to take metaphorical detours to explain some aspect of the stories. For some reason it wasn't the technology that seemed to confuse the kids most. They were perfectly happy to accept the existence of F-16s, jet skis, and accidentally explosive toilets. It was people and relationships that they got caught up on. It was that Cam's CO had been forty, that his grandmother would send him cookies, that he could visit a little old lady who one of his great uncles had met during the war. Strangest of all was the fact that for Cam and the other pilots his age, twenty-two was just the start of a life of adventure. Most of the kids seemed to be treating it as just another part of the fairy tale, but Keras and a couple of the older ones seemed to be considering what it could mean for them if they weren't stuck on their world.

At least, Cam hoped that they were considering it. He could have been just projecting himself onto them and seeing things that weren't there.

Eventually they reached the jumper, opened it up, and dropped their packs inside. Cam asked, "Porter, how long do you think this will take?"

"Ten, fifteen minutes to replace the part, then another ten to run all the diagnostics," Porter replied. "That assumes that the problem isn't worse than it seems, but I doubt it'll be more than a half hour."

"Gotcha. Yell if you need anything. Mehra, Satterfield, keep an eye on the area and the kids." Cam reached up into one of the overhead storage spaces and pulled out a pair of entrenching tools. He looked at Keras. "Feel up to a bit of work?"

"What do you need?" Keras asked.

Cam pointed at the cockpit window, which was pitch black. "I want to get the dirt cleared off the ship before we try to take off. We could probably pull back anyways, but I don't want to strain the engines more than I have to."

Keras nodded and took one of the tools. "I would be glad to help."

They stepped outside and walked around the jumper to the buried front end. While completely excavating the jumper would take quite a while, Cam was sure that if they cleared most of the dirt off of the top and the front they would be able to lift off or back out without too much of a problem. They started to dig and began making quick work of the task.

After a few minutes, Cam took a glance around. Not spotting anyone too close, he lowered his voice and said, "Listen, there's something I want to talk to you about. You said that tonight is the night you make your sacrifice, right?"

Keras froze for a moment, shovel lifted mid air, then slowly began digging again. "Yes, it is."

"Have you... have you ever considered that you don't necessarily have to do it? That you might have a future past twenty-five."

"Everyone thinks that on occasion," Keras said. "But everyone makes the sacrifice in the end."

"Couldn't you leave the village? Just slip off in the night before the last day comes along?"

"And go where? The land in every direction is controlled by one village or another. It would be impossible to escape notice, especially once hunting parties were sent out." Keras shook his head. "I lied early. On occasion, there are those who refuse the sacrifice. They are drugged and forced to the altar, or if they try to flee they are hunted down and either captured or killed. None escape, and those who try only serve as examples to the rest that it is far easier on everyone to simply accept our fates and go peacefully."

"No one tries to go through to gate?"

"How would someone? We long ago forgot how to control the Well, and know nothing of what lies beyond. If I... if someone left that way, would they not almost certainly face a lonely death, by starvation, accident, or at the hands of the Wraith?"

"I get what you're saying." Cam put his hand on Keras' shoulder. "But it doesn't have to be true, not for you. You can come with us. The Wraith don't know where our city is and it has powerful defenses besides. You don't need to worry about them, or about food or shelter. We'll take care of you."

"What would I do, Cameron?" Keras tapped the tip of his entrenching tool against the hull of the jumper. "I can not fly or build machines like this, or do anything else that you have spoken of. I would be a burden."

"We need people who can hunt or carve or whatever else you can do just as much as pilots and engineers," Cam argued, "And if you don't have any useful skills at all, we can teach you some. You're young. You could learn to do just about anything."

Keras looked away from him and toward the sound of the children who were playing past the rear of the jumper. "I have responsibilities to consider, not just my own desires. What kind of example would I be showing to the others?"

"You'd be an example that people can live long, fulfilling lives without being in constant fear of the Wraith."

"And for that matter, what if the sacrifice is truly important for protecting the world? I would be putting everyone I know at risk."

"One missed sacrifice won't hurt anything. It'd be no different than if you fell out of one of your tree houses tonight and split your head open."

Keras stared off into the distance in silence for a minute. Finally he turned his gaze back to Cam and asked softly, "You would truly take in someone you only met today?"

"Damned straight I would," Cam said firmly. "It doesn't matter if you're young or old, strong or infirm: if you're good of heart, that's enough for me and mine."

Keras drew himself up and nodded sharply. "Then I shall come with you and see what kind of lives your people live. I will tell you now, if I do not like what I see, I shall return and do my duty."

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Cam said, slapping him on the back and grinning broadly. Even that conditional agreement took a huge weight off of Cam's shoulder. It would mean having to smuggle Keras through the gate, but that wouldn't be too hard. Once the jumper was in the safe zone and the ZPM replaced, Keras would just have to walk Cam back to the gate to say goodbye. From there it was just a matter of jumping through the wormhole.

Suddenly a sharp whistle from Mehra pierced the air. She had climbed on top of the jumper and had a pair of field glasses out.

"We have company, sir," she called to him. "About a dozen or so people just cleared the treeline and are headed this way fast. They're all armed with bows. ETA, one minute."

Cam rushed to the jumper's rear and glanced around, doing a quick headcount. "Where's Atira? The oldest girl?"

"She said she had to take a leak about a minute ago, sir." Mehra paused, then corrected, "No, wait. She's with them."

"She must have overheard us," Keras said, his face pale. "Ares has been suspicious of you since you arrived. He must have sent her to watch you -- and me."

"Crap. Porter!"

"Give me two minutes, sir!" Porter shouted back. Meanwhile, Satterfield had already herded the rest of the kids together, shoved the entire bag of candy into the hands of the oldest, and pointed them off in the opposite direction from their elders. They ran off giggling, completely oblivious to the situation behind them.

"Keras, get behind us," Cam said as he took up a position on the ramp of the jumper. Mehra and Satterfield flanked him, their M4s unslung and ready. He reached down for his zat, only to realize to his horror that he had never replaced it after taking it off after the crash. _None_ of them had less-lethals on them. As he unslung his own rifle, he had a sinking feeling that everything was about to turn to shit.

"I should go with them," Keras said. "You are leaving anyways, there is no need to cause more trouble."

"Fuck that," Cam said, grabbing Keras by his arm and physically shoving him into the safety of the jumper. He did it just as the other natives reached them. They all had large knifes at their hips and carried bows. Some already had arrows with wicked-looking hunting points nocked on the string. Cam didn't like the looks of those one bit. The tac vests the team wore would stop arrows easily enough -- they were made of advanced carbon fibers and ceramics in order to protect against staff blasts and were far better protection against blades than regular kevlar -- but they only covered their torsos. An arrow to the throat or groin would kill you just as dead as a bullet.

The natives stopped about fifteen feet away. Ares was at the center and he took an extra step forward. "We were gracious to allow you to return here for your machine," he said, all youthful arrogance and pride like a thousand young officers and men Cam had known. "But instead of taking it and leaving, you have been trying to corrupt us all, from your eldest to our children. You would have us abandon our ways and allow our souls to be devoured by the Wraith."

"That's a bunch of crap," Cam said.

"Quiet!" Ares shouted. "You will immediately go to the Well and leave our world, never to return. If your machine cannot fly, then it shall remain here. You will also allow us to take Keras back to our village, so that he can perform his duty to his people."

"We'll be leaving in just a minute," Cam said. "But Keras is coming with us. That's not negotiable."

"You have no choice." Ares raised his bow and drew back an arrow, aiming at Cam. Cam snapped his own weapon up and returned the favor. To either side, Cam's team members raised their rifles to cover the other natives, who for their own parts had yet to draw.

"Listen," Cam said softly. "If try to hurt us, things are going to end very badly for you and the rest of your folks. How about we just lower our weapons and talk about this some more."

"There is no need for talk. You will leave, and Keras will make the sacrifice, or we will perform the sacrifice for all of you."

"Ares, please, listen to him," Keras said. He stepped up between Cam and Satterfield. "I don't want anyone to be hurt."

"Then come with us."

"I... Ares, please," Keras said mournfully.

Ares suddenly shifted his aim and released his arrow. It struck Keras square on his right breast and buried itself deeply, and with a sickening gurgle he fell to the ground. Reflexively Cam pulled the trigger. It was a textbook-perfect shot, a three-round burst to center of mass, and Ares went down hard. A seemingly-unending second passed by as everyone stared in shock, before one of the other men dropped his bow and starting yelling hysterically. Mehra fired a burst over their heads and an instant later they were all cowering on the ground.

"Inside!" Cam snapped, crouching down to drag Keras inside the jumper. His eyes were wide and his face was pale with shock. Blood was welling up from the hole in his tunic and there were flecks of red on his lips.

"You're going to be fine," Cam told him.

"I've got power back on!" Porter shouted. Satterfield and Mehra immediately stepped back and let the door seal up.

"Can we fly?" Cam asked.

"I think so!"

Satterfield dropped to her knees beside Keras, a first aid kit in her grasp, and Cam gave Keras' hand a quick squeeze before all but throwing himself into the cockpit. He sat down and grabbed the controls, taking the briefest moment to check for any red lights before bringing the engines up. He lifted the ship straight up, unwilling to back up and take the risk of hitting one of the natives behind them. The jumper responded sluggishly at first and dirt went pouring off of it, but soon they were flying free and clear.

"Dial us home," Cam told Porter. He didn't dare to look back to see how Keras was doing.

"Got it." Porter punched in Atlantis' address, then put the IDC into her GDO. "Atlantis, this is Jumper One. We are inbound with a medical emergency. We need a trauma team standing by."

"Copy that, Jumper One," Chuck replied shortly. "The shield is down, you are clear to proceed. Medical requests to know the nature of the injury."

"We have native passenger who's got an arrow in his chest," Porter said. She looked over her shoulder and immediately turned back around, a queasy look on her face. "I'd guess he has a punctured lung."

"First time seeing someone who's injured?" Cam asked.

"There's not a lot of arrow-shooting maniacs at MIT," she replied faintly.

"That's actually kind of surprising, given some of the stories I've heard about how crazy that place is," he said, as much to distract himself as her. "By the way, the jumper's brakes still work fine, right?"

"They should. What you call 'the brakes' are a completely separate system from the main engines. They use inertial modification technology to... Colonel? Aren't we approaching the gate a bit fast?"

"That's why I asked about the brakes," Cam told her. A few seconds later, they plowed through the gate at about a hundred miles an hour. To say the jumper jerked to a stop would be a misnomer: there was no jerking or slamming involved, just a sudden but completely unfelt deceleration that left the jumper motionless a foot or so from the steps. Even knowing that the jumper was capable of such a maneuver thanks to several hours of testing on his and John's part, it still took Cam's breath away. As the automatic guidance took over and the jumper rose up toward the hangar, Cam saw several wide-eyed technicians staring at them.

A medical team was waiting in the jumper bay and they spilled into the jumper before the ramp had even hit the deck. Cam forced himself not to look back and concentrated on the post-flight shutdown routine. It wasn't until he heard them roll the gurney away that he finally turned his chair and stood up. He wanted to follow the medics, but he knew there's nothing at all he could do and his team had to come first.

"Porter, good work with getting the repairs done so fast," Cam said to her. He got a little smile in return. This was probably the best introduction to fucked-up missions that he could ask for her to have: no immediate danger to her, no injuries among the team, and quick work on her part ensuring that they were able to escape without shooting a bunch more - without any further problems. God knew plenty of other people, soldier or civilian alike, got off a lot less luckily.

"Mehra, Satterfield, you gals did great, too," he went on. "We'll do a full debriefing at... 1730 or so. Until then, you know the drill."

They filed out of the jumper. Elizabeth was waiting for them at the bay entrance, along with Lorne. Cam waved for his team to go ahead while he talked with them.

"Is everyone alright?" Elizabeth asked.

"We're fine," Cam replied tiredly. "The guy I told you about, Keras, is the one who was hurt."

Elizabeth frowned. "They shot their own leader?"

"Yeah. Some of them weren't too happy with me telling stories about other worlds where people don't kill themselves. I got to talking with Keras about whether he'd leave and take his chances elsewhere instead of dying at twenty-five, one of them overheard or something, and about a dozen of them showed up looking to make sure we left and he stayed to sacrifice himself." Cam shook his head. "The group's leader took a shot as us and hit Keras. I returned fire and killed him. At that point, I made the decision to withdraw before anyone else died."

"That's an unfortunate turn of events," Elizabeth said with a grimace. If she had any thoughts on his lack of discretion, she kept them to herself. "I take it you weren't able to return the ZPM."

"No, we didn't have a chance. I don't know how easy it'll be to do it now."

"A pain in the ass is what it would be," Lorne said. "The instant we turn the energy field back on, all our best options go away. We can't sneak in after dark using night vision, and if we're discovered during the day we can't use zats to defend ourselves."

"Exactly."

"We'll figure out what to do later," Elizabeth said. "We have the jumper back and your team is unhurt, and that's enough to keep me satisfied even if the rest of the mission didn't work out. We'll debrief and discuss whenever you're ready."

Cam nodded. "Major, get someone up here to clean up the jumper and get all the equipment where it belongs."

"Yes, sir."

"If you two will excuse me, there's a shower with my name on it."

Cam went through his post-mission routine: ready room to turn in his rifle and get his damned zat back, medical for the mandatory check-up, and then a shower to clean away the day's accumulated dirt and sweat. Then, with no more routines to rely on and the adrenaline high he had been riding the last half hour starting to wear off, Cam had nothing to do but think. On the bright side, Atlantis was a good place to think, with plenty of balconies and truly stunning views of the towers and the ocean.

It sure as hell beat out Afghanistan.

A short time later, the balcony door opened and someone came out. Unsurprisingly, it was John who sat down on the deck beside Cam. For a brief moment, his mere presence was enough to lift Cam out of his funk a little.

"I heard you had a shit day," John said nonchalantly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did," Cam said. "Who told you that?"

"I have my sources."

"Lorne."

"He said you might need some cheering up," John said with a nod, "so here I am."

"How's he expect you to do that?" Cam asked, more than a little curious. The main method for cheering each other up that they had used years before in Afghanistan wasn't appropriate these days, for a variety of reasons.

"I honestly have no idea. There's no beer, although I suppose I could go see if Teyla can spare some Athosian wine." John's face scrunched up. "Or we could talk about your feelings or something. I'd rather not, but if you think telling me why you're upset would help, I can suffer through it."

Cam chuckled despite himself. "I just came back from Planet of the Teen Suicides, and I killed a kid who was defending his way of life. What more reason do I need?"

"Twenty-four's not a kid by anyone's standards," John pointed out. "We were both fighting at that age, and we've both killed people his age. It's sad sometimes, but it's the job."

Bitterness welled up inside Cam. "Yeah, you're right. It's not like I haven't killed people a lot younger than --"

"Don't," John said sharply, anger filling his voice. "I will not let you start beating yourself up about that convoy again, Mitchell. I spent too much time and effort helping you get over it the first time."

"Well, excuse me if I still have a few lingering doubts about it," Cam snapped back. "I like to think it's a sign that I have a conscience."

John sighed and rubbed his face. "Look, I'm not saying that's a bad thing. I am saying that it wasn't your fault. It's the same thing now. You did what you had to do to protect your team and that guy in the infirmary."

"It is my fault, John," Cam said quietly. "I should have been more careful."

"Maybe," John said, although his doubting tone made it clear he didn't agree. "It's too late to worry about it now, though. Learn from it and move on. It's what I do."

Cam gave him a skeptical look. "You're not exactly a pillar of emotional stability, John."

John shrugged. "Yeah, well, I still get by. I like rationalizing things, too. For example, the guy you killed probably only had a month to live anyways. He just died a little earlier, and in exchange there's a good chance the guy you saved is going to live past today. That's got to make you feel better, right? Right? Come on, smile."

Cam smiled, just a little bit. There was some truth in what John said. "God, you are a screwed up person. Have I ever told you that?"

"A couple of times." John grinned and put an arm over Cam's shoulder. "But I'm a pretty happy guy anyways. Take my advice and we can be fucked up together."

Cam leaned against him and admitted, "I suppose that's better than being fucked up separately."

"See? That's the spirit."

Cam was still feeling a bit miserable, but he also knew that before too long he was going to be fine again. He would have been sooner or later in any case, of course. No one got to his position without being able to deal with the occasional bout of self-doubt, and Cam had too many people to look after to allow himself to wallow in it. Still, with John there, he was going to better sooner rather than later. Cam was glad John was there for him, as a friend if nothing else these days.

He could live with that.


End file.
